Waiting for Dasho

I was a small young man with a small life. Just 19. Inexperienced, and naïve. That was many many years back. My parents were farmers (still they are) – my father worked in the fields, and mothers cooked. My village, Chuzagang, a very remote village, was a full two-hour walk from Gelephu Town. I suppose I could begin from here, an incident that had happened to me 11 years ago.

So every morning, my parents would ready my journey. They prepared breakfast and pushed Nu 10 note in my hand. Whereas, I combed my hair, dressed in fresh gho, fed on breakfast and then set out early. To Gelephu. The Dasho Dungpa’s office. To get the Dasho’s signature on a form for the identity card of my sister.   

And I had to run across several ungainly terraces of rice fields, avoid abuse from village youth, and escape dogs’ chase. Worst of all, I had to walk the infamous river, Maokhola, all alone.

At 9 in the morning, I’d reach the Dasho Dungpa’s office in Gelephu, all exhausted, drenched in sweats. The form has been reviewed by the admin assistant already. And outside the Dasho’s chamber, I waited for him to arrive and get his signature on my form.

“Dasho is in a very important meeting. He cannot come today, come tomorrow,” announced the office assistant to us. There were four of us. I made my way back home.       

   

The next day, again, we waited for the Dasho outside his chamber. At times, we walked in the office and asked the office staff about the Dasho. The staff who dressed rich and spoke only in English never answered us properly. They got angry, instead, disconcerted at us.

Dasho didn’t come the next day, either, nor the day after that. And soon a week went by. By then, we were over 15, waiting for the Dasho’s signature. There was nothing for us to do until the sun goes down. So we would walk down the office lane, bask in the sun, listen to each others’ stories, buy lunch in canteen, and take nap and return to waiting.

One afternoon, Dasho came to his office, donning himself in a colourful kabney. Our hope got lifted up and we ran into his chamber, in line, our forms in our hands. But he just walked out. For the record, he didn’t even look at us. Then, he drove off in a big Toyota car. We heard from others that he was going to attend his daughter’s birthday.

After a week, my parents stopped giving me pocket money – perhaps they didn’t have it. All day, I would yawn, scratch my head, hunger intruded. And as the sun set, I would run back and reach home only when the dinner was cooking. This created so much of stress even for my family. Fights broke out between my parents. 

However, next morning I would walk to the office, in a furious hope that this time, perhaps this time, the Dasho may come.

Let me tell you something about ‘waiting’. It’s so sickening, truthfully speaking. The waiting makes you furious, anxious and agitated. After sometime, it becomes a pain. It pains even if you sit, walk, talk or eat. Later, you boil, burn out – all inside. The last stage - hopelessness and apathy engulfs you. Then, you become a mechanized monster.

So I too became a monster, then, a hater. You never know, after that incident, how much I used to detest the government officials, bureaucratic system and above all, Dashos. After 10 days of painful waiting, and of course the longest 10 days of my life, I got the form signed by the Dasho.

About a decade later, I’ve become a civil servant too. When I think back on this particular incident, I often feel myself with a surge of affection and pity. But today this truly helped me understand my duties and responsibilities as a public servant. Our duty is not limited to paper works, tours, meetings and workshops, and honing skills in public speaking and making PowerPoint presentation, but way beyond that - to serve people.

Different people enter our office seeking directions and support, and helps and favors. I know that it takes your few minutes to guide or help them, but it can save their weeklong time, traveling and money.

And way advance, I wish you all a very wonderful Losar! 

Bhutan rises in “The Land of the Rising Sun”

Which is one country that you wish to visit in your life? And why?

I still remember writing an essay on the topic above when I was in my High School. It was 2000. My answer and my wish that I wrote in my essay was Japan. And I had one particular reason to visit this splendid country, also known to us as “The Land of the Rising Sun”, to see and understand its economic miracle.  

So after 13 years, this boyhood wish of mine has been eventually fulfilled. I got an opportunity to visit Japan in 2013 and there I traveled and stayed in several cities and prefectures.

I found everything in Japan incredibly grand and advanced. With over 127 million of population, it is home to the world’s largest and technologically advanced producers of motor vehicles, electronics, machine tools, ships and processed foods. 

This country takes huge pride in acclaiming itself as the world leader in fundamental scientific research. Moreover, it is the world's third largest donor of official development assistance, of which Bhutan too is the beneficiary.

Everything in the country is perfectly organized and clean - from the streets to the planning and policymaking. The motor vehicles don’t honk, and people don’t spit on the floors and walls. They respect your time, the elderly, and seniority.

But what surprised me the most was to know how hugely popular “King Jigme” and Bhutan in Japan. You just can’t believe me. In fact, it’s the Japanese love for my King and Bhutan that got me writing this post. And I’m very proud to write and post it on 34^th birth anniversary of our King.

One afternoon, I visited the Asakusa Kannon Temple in Tokyo with other Bhutanese fellows. I was wearing my gho and a badge (the picture of my King and Queen) attached on the gho. After sometime, at the temple, I knew that all people were staring at me and my Bhutanese fellows.

I was surprised, felt awkward too. For it’s the first time in my life that I was gaining so much of attention, that’s also in a foreign soil.  Many just murmured amongst themselves, others kept staring at me. And some followed and approached me.  

“You Bhuutaan…aah…happiness?” they inquired me. I nodded, nervously. And their face, instantaneously, glowed in all bright smiles.

After that they spotted the badge on my gho. They pointed at it and exclaimed, “Aah, King Jigme!” They recognized my King in the badge. There was so much joy in their voice, in their reaction.

Then, they called out their friends to have a look at the badge and to talk to me. As they looked at my badge, they jumped in sheer excitement and ecstasy, some even clapping their hands. And they kept uttering repeatedly, “King Jigme”.

In another occasion, we visited the Kasai Water Reclaimation Centre. There, I came across Mr. Abiko who followed me the entire day and he talked in incredible details about Bhutan which simply astounded me. 

With Mr. Abiko

“I save money to go to Bhutan. Happiness country. And to meet King Jigme and Queen,” he told me in one moment, his eyes teary, and added, “It’s my last wish.”  It touched me so much that even I wanted to cry. 

Wherever you travel to Japan, any Bhutanese would receive different treatment. Even in the busyness of life, they come forward to talk to you. You are priority, you are respected. And you would walk your head held high.

In 2011, our King and Queen visited Japan. This is the time when our King and Queen touched their lives - the people of the world’s most developed country.  This is something unbelievable. Their love and respect for our King and Queen is so huge that I can’t bring myself to put it into words. Moreover, it’s far beyond my understanding. But to know this, to feel this in Japan, my heart swelled with pride and I was moved to tears.

So on this joyous occasion, on 34^th birth anniversary of my King, I pay all my reverence and love for what His Majesty had done for us - your citizens and country. I wish His Majesty a long life and keep inspiring people all around the world to become a good human being.  

Picture courtesy: 3rd and 5th pictures downloaded from facebook.com/Jetsun Pema (Queen of Bhutan) 

The strength of young men

I came to office, this afternoon, to complete my pending work. Once I started working in the office, I felt how cold Thimphu has been of late. No clothes and room heaters were keeping us warm. It’s bone chilling and exhausting.

The entire Thimphu valley has been engulfed in dark clouds, and the cold it fetched to us was very harsh and uncomfortable, the kind that you really don’t like. And this cold gets into your bones, straightaway, and makes your whole body ache severely.

And here, in my office, instead of working, I stood up praying the rain or snow to fall outright and wash away all this clouds and cold. This is the time when I started hearing, opposite my office, children screaming and shouting, “Punakha gi Nya-goe! Nya-goe! Nya-goe!”

 

I craned out my head from the window, and watched what was happening outside. Out in the ground, a group of 15 children was cheering up for their friend who was pulling a pair of motor tyres. Yes, this is exact replication of Nya-goe Dendhur, the competition for the strongest man that BBSC organizes.  

It took a little moment to think about going outside to watch this competition. There were nine young contenders for the competition. Each contender has been named as Punakha gi Nya-goe, Mongar gi Nya-goe… according to their dzongkhags.

The contenders 

The competition has four different rounds (first round, quarter, semi and the final). In each round, the contenders have to go through four different stages of weightlifting and pulling the tyres. I was surprised to see this competition so well organized.      

I was even more amazed to see that all the contenders were taking the competition very seriously. They fought with great passion, that for a moment, I wondered they can even beat me like the way they beat the cold weather.

So I announced them I’m going to provide prize for the winner, Nya-goe. After that, they took the competition way more seriously. It’s wonderful to see them fighting for the competition, created by themselves, and delighting in it. They cheered up for each other; meanwhile, they have gathered a huge crowd of spectators.

Nyagoe Jr. with the prize

Finally, we saw the winner of the competition, Druk Gi Nya-goe. He completed his final task in 33 seconds. As promised, I gave the winner a small prize. I urged them to keep practising the Nya-goe Dendhur. We never know, one day in the future, after 15 to 20 years, these kids would be representing their respective dzongkhags in the real Nya-goe Dendhur.   

As I returned office to continue my work, the sky slowly cleared the dark clouds. After almost a week, I saw a glimpse of the sun, oh god, I feel good. 

Dear readers, stay warm and happy weekend! 

Let’s read, and change the way we live

As all things do, the cold winter here in Thimphu is almost instantly over. The snow fallen, the winter vacation all done. And it simply excites me to embrace, back again, the warm Thimphu, the one that’s generously pleasant and beautiful.    

This means that I can go out on walk frequently, attend social activities and shoot more pictures. And quite hopefully, I can write my blog more vigorously and get treat to read wonderful stories from you too.

So on this pleasant day, let me share this particular story of my life with you; for I believe that you can relate to me, my story. When my parents first sent me to the school, they had in their minds that his son would learn to read and write and become an important person in his life.

They wanted that his son was not going to grow up illiterate like them. So I attended schools and learned how to read and write. It opened my eyes; I’ve become a literate person. 

To them, my parents, to make me literate mean that other people won’t be able to cheat me. Because that I would be able to read, write, and do maths calculation. Read the notice and boards when I have to travel. Read and write application and letters. Above all, I would get to work in the government office.   

That’s all.

Last month, back in my village, I was reading a book outside at the courtyard of my house. A fellow-villager who passed by looked at me in surprise. It’s not because that I was there, but I was reading the book.

“At this age…when you’ve already finished studying…and doing job now, eh!” he talked to me, confused, and asked, “Why you read book?”      

I wanted to answer him right away, and tell him so many things. But I just smiled at him, and continued reading.

The truth is that in the Bhutanese way of life, generally, reading ends once you complete your studies. And writing is limited to writing letters, application and other necessary documents. Perhaps this mentality in us that the reading habit amongst is very low, and we keep passing it on to next generation.

So our generation really needs to break this cycle. That education is not limited to school and college, but it walks with you until your last breath. That from this pleasant spring season, let’s buy books and start reading so that our children follow us.

And a very Happy Valentine’s Day! 

Standing near, being close

This year’s January is a month of relatively happy times. For me, and my family members. More eloquently, it’s the month of family, of reunion, of joy and celebrations. By the way, we are over 40. My father married two wives, my mothers. Altogether, we are 11 siblings. Most already got married and have kids, and some still are single. All of us are spread in different places - working, married off and studying.

So when you’ve a giant family like mine, it’s always very difficult for all of you to get together. However, this winter, all of us met in our village, after many many years. It’s the family reunion, to put it precisely.   

I don’t know about you, but spending time with my family members and beloved ones close by is simply transformative and wonderful. It’s truly a blessing.

In our family get-together, in the month of last January, we spent our time together creating loads of stories and memories that I’m sure we will cherish and laugh for decades.

We made memories in small, loving bites - one memory at a time. That we went out for outdoor picnic, that we played together, that we helped each other in the fields, that we attended to family rituals, that we drank and danced hysterically, that we shared our laughter limitlessly.

And when something good happened, no matter how small, we celebrated it. This is how we built a legacy - a legacy of my family and village that we were born into and what we can preserve and pass it down. 

Also, we nudged on each other, argued at times and bothered sometimes. But it’s ok because it’s part of being close and caring for each other. In fact, we are part of each other’s lives and the protectors. We’re always there (in our prayers too) if some of us are about to slip.

We all know that this world is very fragile. So much unexpected things can happen in our life, anytime. No one can apprehend it. Ever. When my own beloved ones are close by, standing near, I feel safe and happy. More importantly, we are sacrificing our time for our parents and family members that are so very important in our life.      

My village, my responsibility

I’m very proud to post this story on my blog. The story of joy that I gained from giving it back to my village. In a small measure though. And here, my heart melts with an overwhelming joy and happiness - perhaps the purest of joy that I had ever felt.

The 4-day long Children Program that I initiated and organized with the support from my niece Lisa and nephew Salman and the READ Bhutan and Chuzagang Agricultural Farmers Co-operative ended successfully this weekend. This program is the first contribution that I initiated for my village, my community.

My village, Chuzagang (in Gelephu), is still considered as a remote village. Over 487 households in the village, people live a hard peasantry life. Without motorable road, we still carry loads on our backs and walk two hours to reach Gelephu town.

Many years ago, I had soared out away from this village, from the hard life. I got lucky. Because I got education. Good in studies, I had passed each class (standard) in the schools and college and got a civil service job.

But other village children are not so lucky like me. These children are always burdened with working excessively in the fields. The parents (due to lack of awareness) prefer their children helping them back in the farms than sending them to the schools. Due to this, the children do not get adequate time and guidance in their studies. So every year, many children drop out of the schools. Also, deprived of educational programs in Chuzagang, the children are generally very shy with low self-esteem and confidence.

However, I’m a proud man today. A degree certificate in my name, I’ve a dignified government job. I don’t till land. Neither do I’ve to sweat in the summer heat, nor do I get to drench in the monsoon rain. Literally speaking, I live a sophisticated and happy life.            

But what “happy life” or “pride” should I say that is in me when my own fellow-villagers still struggle back in the village? Should one consider the “pride” comes to you when you become more successful than others?

My village and my fellow-villagers need me now – my love, my knowledge, my support and my expertise. Even in a small way. They don’t ask me, but I can sense it, instinctively. And I always believe that our small contributions means a lot for them like each brick that makes a house.

I’m never a proud man or a true son of this village until I do something for my village and my fellow-villagers. Truthfully speaking, this village has given me so much. This is the place where I was born and grew up and got my early education. And it’s our natural responsibility that we (educated and “prosperous” people) return and give back to our own community to make it better, prosperous community.      

So this 4-day long program for 46 children of my village, Chuzagang, is intended to empower them with necessary information and skills so that they can realize the importance of education. We have also involved the gewog leaders, parents and officials from different agencies in the program to create awareness on positive development of the village children.        

I know that I cannot do great things. I cannot donate money in millions; I cannot impact our country’s policies. But I can initiate small projects, like this one, for my community. One day, these 46 children, when they grow up educated and prosperous, can also give back to their community. I believe that many small contributions can make a great difference.  

Sangay Tshering, the Gup of Chuzagang Gewog, graced the closing of the program. The program was conducted from January 21-24, 2014 at Read Bhutan Community Library and Resource Centre in Chuzagang.

Giving back

Three months back, I actually started planning to organize this children program in my village,  Chuzargang, Gelephu. In Thimphu, then, I talked to the officials of the READ Bhutan and Chuzargang Agricultural Farmers Cooperative about the program. They permitted me to organize the program and assured me all kinds of supports. 

Then immediately I looked for funding support from a few businessmen in Thimphu. They, originally from Chuzargang, have contributed stationery and other materials. 

I have two committed young volunteers. My niece Lisa and nephew Salman. So we just began the 4-day long Children Program from January 21, 2013 at READ Bhutan Centre in Chuzargang in collaboration with the staff of READ Bhutan and Chuzagang Agricultural Farmers Cooperative. We expected about 20 participants, but was quite surprised when more than 45 children turned up for the program. 

The program provides them different exciting and fun activities. Reading, painting, story telling, poem recitation, movie screenings, and competition. 

I initiated this program in Chuzargang as I found that rural children are deprived of educational programs during their vacation. Because of this they have low self-esteem and they lack confidence. This program aims to provide them skills, knowledge and recreational facilities. 

Moreover, I grew up in this village. And this village has given me so much - education, wisdom, values, safety and more importantly, the belongingness. By organizing this program for the children of Chuzargang, I am giving just a small thing back to my village, my community.

After this program, I hope that these children, when they grow up, can also contribute back to the village. This is our village and it's our natural responsibility to enhance the positive development of our village children and the entire village.

With two young volunteers. Everyday we have to walk two hours to reach the Center to  conduct the program

Note: Sorry for the errors in the post. I am using my phone to type and post here.

Timelessness

10 days. That I've been living here in my village of Chuzagang. With my family. And here,  I feel that I am living in a different place, the place of timelessness.

I don't get to keep the track of days of the week. Date too. We forget it all. If needs arise, we ask people about it. 

Life in my village, the perfect peasantry life, is not dictated by time and appointments, but by intuition and nature. Every morning, I wake up by the alarm of rooster's cry. It's quite amazing. Our meals and works, according to the sun's position and stars up in the sky. The seasons so announced by the kinds of wild birds' arrivals and departure.

I am very much enjoying each piece of time here with my parents. I grew dark, like those villagers, my skin burnt and my limbs hardened coz of working every day in the field. 

We have here no TV, no internet and the 3G service very disruptive. To get 3G service in my phone,  I have to walk to certain areas in here. It takes almost half day to complete posting a single post on my blog.

However, to keep myself abreast with the world outside, I always listen to my father's radio. I started liking some of the BBS radio jockeys already. Also, I listened to BBC radio.